Cassiopeia's View Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages

Dragomir listened to the echoing of his voice, but ultimately there was no response. His shoulders visibly sagged and he prepared to range further, but then a glimpse of silver made his heart leap with hope. Had she heard him? Why hadn't she called out?

Then he took stock of the rest of the approaching wolf's appearance, and realized with a heavy dose of disappointment that it wasn't Isilmë at all. His extremities were all dunked in a darker shade of grey and the silver, on closer inspection, wasn't light enough to be his sibling's near-white coat. Not to mention he was a male. Dragomir was prepared to simply pass the man by when Dacio spoke, and imagine his surprise when it was in his father's tongue.

He faltered with one paw suspended in the air and frowned at Dacio. It could be a trick. What were the odds this man was one of Blackhead's co-conspirators who had picked up a few words from Vercingetorix when he was in Rusalka? But if that was the case, he was still within howling distance of Moonspear and his leaders knew he was venturing out this way, so in that sense, help would come sooner than later if he was attacked. Feeling similarly suspicious of Dacio, whom Dragomir had heard nothing about in his life, the boy responded with a hesitant, hei.

He wanted to ask about Isilmë, but it was more important to know if Dacio was someone he should be running from first. So he asked, in clear Trigedasleng, friend or foe? Surely Vercingetorix's enemies wouldn't know more than a word or two of their language.

NANOWRIMO: 275